


Good things // Wait

by dharma_club



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mitch has kids, So much angst, Therapy is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma_club/pseuds/dharma_club
Summary: They’re sixteen when they kiss for the first time. It takes a while to really catch.





	Good things // Wait

**Author's Note:**

> It's a Fathers' Day + PrideMonth fic!!! Unbeta'ed because I don't know anyone in this fandon (feel free to drop me a line over at queenfawkward.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you for reading and for your feedback if you decide to let me know what you think!

They’re sixteen when they kiss for the first time and it’s during a stupid game. Thomas Chabot dares Dylan to kiss the person he hates the most in the room. 

“Not fair!” Mitch claims, because _duh_. “That’s a targeted attack.” 

Dylan rolls his eyes and pecks Mitch on the lips. 

“I need to go wash my mouth now,” he grins, because being an asshole to Mitch is kind of his duty at that point. 

They are friends a few weeks later. Dylan doesn’t think the two are connected, but who knows.

 

They’re eighteen the second time, Dylan doesn’t remember much of it except Mitch looked so happy, riding high on adrenaline just before the kiss and then so heartbreakingly frightened after. That and how short Mitch used to be. It’s a weird thing to remember years later, but that’s kinda stuck with Dylan, how Mitch was so much shorter than him at the draft. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m sorry.” Mitch gasps, looking up. 

Dylan hugs him, it feels like his heart is breaking. It’s silly and over-dramatic, but Dylan can’t shake that feeling of losing something big at that moment. 

 

The third time they’re 22. 

2019 is the year when for the first time things finally start making sense again. Dylan is playing, and playing well, and he’s playing with Brinksy to boot. So yeah, goodtimes.

He discovers Chicago is a lot like Toronto, in some ways, and a lot like Erie in others. So it feels like home. Looking back, this one should’ve mattered more. 

Mitch shows up in Chicago late spring, for no good reason, uninvited, and just jumps Dylan the moment the door is open. 

He does his thing, only Dylan didn’t know it was a _Mitch-thing_ at the time, where he just cups Dylan’s jaw from both sides and pulls him down to be kissed. They make out on Dylan’s couch for 40 minutes. It’s weirdly chaste, considering just getting lost in each other, hands always somewhere safe, shirts on. 

Dylan wants to rake up Mitch’s shirt and leave marks on his chest, wants to shove his hands into Mitch’s pants and make him shake. He wants to stake a claim. He doesn’t, and he doesn’t know why, even years after. 

Mitch is demanding and bright, and he keeps pushing for more and more control until Dylan just snaps and pushes back. Mitch gasps and says “Yes, come at me,” like Dylan did something amazing. 

Mitch falls asleep on Dylan’s shoulder. 

“I think I’m going to propose to Steph,” Mitch says the next morning, just before he leaves. “Next year.” 

Dylan idly thinks they’re kind of too young for marriage, but they’ve been together longer than Dylan is comfortable admitting he knew about. 

So that was that. It doesn’t actually affect Dylan’s life in any way.

 

He does the math, because he’s a stats guy and he likes patterns. 

Mitch doesn’t kiss him when they’re 28. Instead Dylan buys a stuffed Mickey Mouse doll, gets a GTHL logo printed on a pink onesie and writes a simple CONGRATS on a card. He signs it “Connor and Dylan” because he’s pretty sure that’s less pathetic. He can’t stand the idea of Mitch going over the gifts and thinking _Oh, poor Dylan Strome. He’s probably still hung up on the fact he didn’t get to blow me when he had the chance_.

He’s definitely less pathetic two year later, he’s got a cup ring and a really nice cushy new contract, and for the first time in his life - a real boyfriend. Clayton is kind and patient and he has the most soft hair Dylan ever touched, he also definitely makes Dylan appreciate the intimacy of sleeping with the same person for more than twice. 

When Clayton adopts the most adorable labradoodle puppy he lets Dylan name her. Dylan comes out to his team officially, and to whoever else cares, which isn’t a lot of people. There are three gay players getting drafted in the first round that year, no one cares about a Strome. Most sportscaster can’t tell the three of them apart anyway. 

Dylan plays Mitch three times that year. They text when Mitch gets injured. 

But that’s pretty much it. They don’t kiss when they’re 30 and Dylan is okay with that. He kind of didn’t want to cheat on Clayton anyway. 

He thinks it’s what growing up feels like. It’s not that he doesn’t sometimes wish for things, Mitch-things, to be different, he’s just also capable of recognising it doesn’t affect who he is now anymore. 

 

Dylan breaks up with Clayton when he gets traded. 

He likes being a reliable third line center, he never thought he would, but he is happy. He also likes being a voice in the room other guys respect, likes having long conversations with the coaching staff. He loves hockey but for the first time he also knows it will be fine _after_ , when it’s gone. 

He sleeps around a lot. He even fucks a guy who is on the team once. It doesn’t feel like a mistake, but he’s secretly relieved when the guy gets sent down a month later.

It seems impossible that he was ever fifteen and terrified of kissing Mitch Marner. That he thought that people knowing he is gay was the worst thing ever. Nowadays, it just doesn’t come up. He keeps playing for teams where there is someone younger, higher profile, who’s gay. He thinks management likes having him in the room to show support for stars, and he’ll take it. 

Hilariously enough Matt gets asked about it once in a scrum. “So, it’s pride night, do you feel the support from your team tonight?” A reporter asks. 

“Ehm,” Matt says, going red in his interview. “I think you’ve got the wrong Strome.” 

 

Mitch’s divorce gets announced after a deep playoff run. It’s a big deal for the Toronto media since hockey players usually don’t, you know, get divorced. And even if they do, they’re not Mitch Marner, professional ray of sunshine and Leafs family man. Dylan’s pretty sure Mitch’s kids have more video clips on NHL.com than him. 

Mitch is thin and tired and Dylan feels for him as he watches the Leafs’ locker cleanout day on the screen. He should reach out, but he doesn’t know what to say. 

Dylan spends that summer in Toronto because he’s got an apartment there and he’s pretty sure he’s going to end up traded somewhere again. There are always events and charities, but Dylan tries not make it a thing by checking if Mitch is attending each time. It mostly works.

They end up meeting at a pub for drinks with a bunch of retired guys, Dylan’s pretty sure he’s only invited because John Tavares likes Ryan and Ryan wanted a ride so he could drink without Syd getting mad. 

Mitch and Dylan fist-bump. Dylan has to tell himself 33 year old athletes do not get aneurisms out of nowhere. 

“So, you’re back on the market.” Someone tells Mitch later in the night. 

“Not really, “ Mitch shrugs. “I’m mostly trying to see my kids as much as possible and keep a low profile.” He’s not looking at Dylan and Dylan isn’t looking at him. 

 

Dylan’s team plays Toronto in November. Mitch scores two goals and invites Dylan to dinner. 

“So, where are you taking me?” Mitch asks, smiling as he struts towards Dylan’s car. 

Dylan isn’t sure how to deal with Mitch looking so happy to see him. 

“What type of food do you like?” He asks, because he’s stupid and temperamental and for some reason he really wants to get Mitch feeling as awkward as he does. 

“I’m easy,” Mitch shrugs as if Dylan didn’t just throw a stone at his direction. “Let’s see what’s around here. People keep saying DC has amazing food.”

They try to get burgers in some place Dylan never heard of but is packed enough on a weekday to make them wait for a table at the bar.

“You don’t get to do this anymore, do you?” He asks Mitch as they’re huddle together. Mitch’s cheekbones and nose are an appealing pink color. It makes him look younger and makes Dylan forget himself. 

“Dinner?” Mitch snickers.

“Wait for a table.” Dylan snorts. “Not how the other half lives I imagine?” 

Mitch bites his lip and shrugs. “You know. You’re the other half too, man.“

“Well, I’m not you.” Dylan says and huh, he didn’t know he was still so bitter about that part of it all.

“You’re better than that.” Mitch insists, and it’s honest. “You’re freaking Dylan Strome.”

Mitch grins and Dylan reminds himself Mitch is going through a nasty public divorce, and he just wanted to meet up with an old buddy he somehow still likes and respects. It’s not his fault Dylan has a twenty year old boner for him.  
“Thanks, man.” He drinks his beer and just looks at Mitch. 

They spend thirty minutes talking about Dylan’s new team and Brinksy’s new kid and some video Mitch swears is the funniest thing he ever saw. 

It feels inevitable when Mitch puts his hand above Dylan’s elbow and leans in. 

“Can I ask you something?” Mitch asks. “You need to tell me if it’s weird.”

“Okay.”

“Do you, you know, still fuck guys sometimes?” Mitch asks and Dylan can feel his brain and his heart short circuit. 

“Mitch, I’m gay.” he says, looking at him. “Of course I fuck men.” 

“Yeah, obviously I know that. I…” Mitch mumbles and he’s blushing. “God, I don’t know what I’m doing. Forget about it. Let me buy you another beer.” 

He smiles brightly and buys Dylan another beer. They eat their burgers. Dylan feel numb. He wants to say something to Mitch, something real. Wants to kiss him and beg him to come home with Dylan. 

“Thanks for suggesting we do this,” he says instead, once they’ve paid. 

 

“You need a ride somewhere?” Dylan asks. 

“No, the team has a hotel just around the corner."

Dylan really doesn't know what to do, puts his hands in his coat pockets. He desperately wants Mitch, but it's like fifteen years of uncertainty are stuck in his throat. He wants to do something, but he's afraid to break this. Whatever it is. He looks at Mitch, not sure what to say. 

"I," Mitch continues, looking down. "I've got a hotel room to myself. You could come over.”

 

Mitch’s hotel is indeed three blocks away, the sneaky bastard. Dylan is so charmed and confused he just follows Mitch blindly. They keep their distance, but then Mitch presses against him in the elevator and Dylan’s heart is thumping wildly. 

He kisses Mitch the moment he can, deep and hard. He knows he’s being a little bit of a caveman, too proprietary, too demanding, but Mitch just moans, shedders and slides his mouth to Dylan’s neck, deft fingers opening Dylan’s shirt. 

They move onto the bed, undressing quickly and efficiently. Mitch has a condom and lube and he preps himself while Dylan watches, greedy and desperate the sounds, the way his skin flushes, the way he breathes out Dylan’s name.

“Come on,” Mitch says. “Wanna see what you have.” 

He turns, on the bed, going up to his knees and Dylan can’t look at him. 

“Stay down,” He growls, his hands pushing Mitch’s shoulders to the bed. “We’re going to go  
slow.” 

The let’s go slow plan doesn’t really last long after Dylan’s inside Mitch. Mitch is feverish beneath him, biting sharp nails raking Dylan’s side and thigh. It’s hitched breaths and fractured moans, it’s Mitch pushing back onto Dylan’s body until Dylan is too dizzy to keep up any pace.

“Look at you,” Dylan whispers and he doesn’t even recognise his own voice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mitch chants under his breath, he’s sweaty and desperate and Dylan can’t stand any of it so he pulls out and turns Mitch around to face him. His eyes are bright and wet and his mouth is bitten red. 

Dylan didn’t know you could love somebody you don’t know at all. He lies down and Mitch pulls him flush against him, chest to chest. Gets rid of the condom and wraps his hand around them both, Dylan whines and pushes into Mitch’s punishing rhythm, hides his face in the crook of Mitch’s neck. 

 

“Can we try?” Mitch asks the next morning, he looks different. Less like a stranger. 

Apparently Dylan still doesn’t know how to say no to him. 

 

They try. 

Mitch has kids, and an ex wife, and on top of everything - they’re still playing on separate teams in the freaking NHL. But they carve time, Mitch opts out of the All Stars game and they spend a week in Mexico together instead. 

Mitch spends it trying to convince Dylan to basically reenact every porn he ever saw. It isn’t like their first night together, nor is it like the remote facetime sessions they managed in the weeks since. Mitch is solid, but soft, intent on touching Dylan everywhere. He spends hours trying to make Dylan laugh and moan and sigh, sometimes all together. His constant enthusiasm and appreciation for Dylan’s body is frankly intoxicating and probably the most heady feeling ever, Dylan doesn’t remember a lover wanting him as much as Mitch seems to. 

Mitch just looks at him, all the time, eyes dark and wanting, demanding. 

“Mark me, c’mon, Dyl, I need you,” he says, voice quiet and breathy, and Dylan is helpless. He leans in and kisses Mitch as hard as he can while pushing into him, again and again, his chest tight and ears ringing.

 

The summer is even better. It’s not some remote vacation that feels too good to be true - it’s a life they cobble together. 

Dylan rents out his apartment to one of the Blue Jays rookies and just moves into the house Mitch bought. They train separately, but they eat all their meals together. They sleep together every night, Mitch curled into Dylan’s side. They swim and golf and play video games and talk and cook. 

Dylan looks down at his lap one evening and finds Mitch smiling up him. 

“You’re my favorite.” Dylan blurts, because apparently he is helpless against Mitchell Marner’s smile, and yet somehow he’s not sure how he ended up having this. 

“Your hair is terrible.” Mitch answers because he’s a menace. 

 

They spend every weekend and an afternoons each week with Carli and Noah. Dylan ends up getting into a fight in July with some hockey parent over Carli not passing at practice because _she’s the only one who knows how to find the net, you asshole._

He’s kind of shocked by his own behavior, the fact Mitch just gapes at him and says “Shit, I thought you’d be the chill parent.” doesn’t really help. 

Carli is smart, and resourceful and she calls Dylan’s mom _Grandma Trish_. Noah is the most hilarious toddler Dylan ever met, he also looks like a mini-me of this kid from Thornhill Dylan used to hate. He can’t help but love them. 

Dylan and Steph are not friends, but they're polite to each other. Dylan can't even imagine what it's like for her. She trusts Dylan with her kids, lets him have a place in their life, stands next to him in family pictures for birthdays and hockey tournaments and school plays. Somehow Mitch and Steph still get along really well, which is shocking in itself, asking for anything more of her would be unfair, Dylan knows the optics are really bad here. Even Brinksy doesn’t believe him when he insists that he and Mitch did not get together until much later, so it would probably be too much to ask Mitch’s ex to take it at face value. 

 

It's almost a year when Dylan finally lets himself feel that giddy happiness of _I’ve got this_ in late September, and then everything goes sour.

“I think about it sometimes, you know, what would happen if Steph and I just stayed together, worked through all our issues” Mitch says grimly, watching Lena, their nanny, get the kids into the car. “Would sure save money on therapy for them.”

Dylan blinks at the sun, silent.

 

They're not okay. There are too many things they don’t talk about. 

The first time they sleep together Mitch spends two hours crying in a locked hotel bathroom while Dylan is pretending to sleep. 

Hockey isn't something Dylan wants to discuss. Dylan can’t stand it and leaves whenever Mitch mentions the next season, or anything to do with either of their teams.

Dylan loves Mitch, but Mitch can’t say it back. He says it feels like a lie whenever he tries. Dylan knows it's guilt about Steph, can't imagine what it must be like for Mitch, but it still stings. 

The truth is Dylan’s career got fucked because he’s gay. The league is better now, but it wasn’t twenty years ago. Mitch doesn't say anything about his own teenage gay panic but he asks Dylan to never leaves Carli and Noah alone with Mitch’s dad. 

Dylan lies awake at night and wonders why this, this tiny small thing Mitch said, feels like worse than anything else. 

 

He sure doesn’t know what to say. But he feels like he has to say something. Now.

“You know that thing you said? After the kids went to Steph yesterday?” Dylan brings it up as they’re making dinner the next day.

“Ah… Saving for therapy? I think I can cover it. How messed up do you think they are?”

“No,” Dylan says slowly, and Mitch looks up, obviously picking up they're going to discuss whatever is wrong. “I just can’t let go of it, it’s been bothering me all of last night. That thing about what would happen if you didn’t leave. I’m just, do you actually think about that?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch says slowly. “Not really. But I look at them and I guess I just like imagining it working out the way we meant for it. Being happy, planning birthdays together, I don’t even know. It was never really like that with Steph, not really, but I just like knowing there’s this other path, of what would happen if we really worked on saving our marriage.” 

“You’d be happy?” Dylan asks, because he’s kind of bothered by that. The anger sneaks up on him and he's raising his voice before he notices. “So basically there’s this hypothetical alternate universe, where you are still happily married, with a wonderful and fulfilling marriage where I don’t know, Steph really enjoys pegging or something. And as a result your kids are better off by not having to deal with their dad leaving home and the shitton of therapy that will follow.” 

“Dylan,” Mitch says gently. “What’s going on?” 

Dylan doesn’t know, but he just feels empty. He shakes his head. “You don’t get this.” 

“I really don’t,” Mitch admits. “I don't get what's so bad about wishing _this_ wasn’t all fucked up and shit.” he motions with his hand, not at Dylan, just in a weird circular movement, it still hurts.

Because Dylan doesn’t think he can survive not having Mitch, not now he knows how it feels to have him.

“Mitch, you’re…” He swallows thickly. “You’re my person. I love you. This, _this_ is my perfect reality. I know it's like chapter two, or a do-over for you, but it isn’t for me. The fact you daydream about there being a situation that you’re somewhere else, happy, and I’m… I don’t know, don’t exist, or not in the way, it’s, eugh.”

He stops, breathing as evenly as he can. It feels like something in him is about to break, and suddenly Mitch is there, cupping his jaw with both hands.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “There’s… You’re my person too.”

Dylan shrugs. “You’ve had this whole life without me. And I just, I know I fucking wasn’t, but sometimes I feel like you left me behind. Like I was waiting for you so my real life could start. It’s not on you. And I know that’s unhealthy, I do… I just can’t help it.” 

“This is not how it is at all. I don’t, Dyls,” Mitch repeats, frustrated. “I don’t know how to make this better.”

Mitch is gentle as he kisses the tears off Dylan's cheekbones. Dylan sniffs. 

 

Therapy introduces a new word into his life which gets used a lot in every single session; codependent. 

He learns to recognise Mitch saying he loves him in acts instead of words. It’s weirdly groundbreaking. Learns some things make him angry and sad without him even noticing. 

Dylan ends up retiring. He buys out his contract and tells everyone he wants to spend more time with his family and no one asks what he means by that, so he just stays at Mitch's house.

He sometimes feels stupid doing therapy, sitting with Dr. Slviuk and going over random thoughts he had the past week, but he goes every time. 

Mitch decides he should be going to therapy as well. 

“Why?” Dylan asks him when Mitch tells him he wants to try it. They’re baking cupcakes for halloween, and Carli is in the next room shrieking about pumpkins. Sugar and kids is not a good mix, and Dylan never learns.

“Are you kidding me?” Mitch exclaims, bewildered. 

They end up kissing on the couch after the kids are asleep, because it’s better than talking about how much they’re both kind of messed up. Mitch slides to his knees and blows him right there in the living room, then cockily smirks all throughout the next day when they’re playing golf with Connor and Lauren. 

 

Mitch insists they get a new house after two years. Dylan hates their decorator, even though she does a good job, but it is satisfying to live somewhere they both own. 

Dylan and Noah win a four-months campaign to get a dog and the Strome-Marner household welcomes Rabbit into the family. _God bless Noah_ , Dylan thinks. 

Dylan gets a job working as an analyst for the OHL and texts Mitch in a panic when he realises he’s not actually sure what he’s supposed to do. 

 

Mitch doesn’t ever really come out. Dylan isn’t really even sure if he’s bi or gay or just weirdly only ever into dick if it’s Dylan’s. He doubts Mitch knows for sure either.

Mitch writes a book instead. Dylan laughs and teases him mercilessly for finding a way to make a marketing campaign even when he’s about to retire, but he’s also immensely proud. It’s a “funny stories about hockey” book and Dylan reads at least four versions of every single chapter in it while Mitch is writing, which he insists doing himself. 

It’s unexpected when Connor calls him out of the blue one day in February and immediately asks. “When are you proposing? Am I the best man?”

“What?” Dylan asks, because he’s just finished a ten mile run and he’s stupid with this much sweat on him. 

“I just read your future husband’s book. Congratulations, you’re disgusting.” Connor answers and Dylan can hear him grinning. 

“What do you mean?” Dylan asks. 

“Let me quote: Stepping Up, Mitch Marner, page 219,” Connor clears his throat. “I am very fortunate that the man I first kissed twenty years ago in a stupid bet is now sharing his life with me. I spent too much of my life living in fear of the things I shouldn’t want, but today I am proud to say I want to spend the rest of our lives together and I hope we get to do just that. Eugh, it's so sweet my teeth are rotting” 

“Oh my god,” Dylan says because he’s basic, and then, "Fake teeth can't rot, Connor." 

 

Mitch is cleaning the pool when Dylan finds him a few minutes later. Another stupid thing he insists doing himself. 

“I think a squirrel died in there,” Mitch tells him, not even looking up.

“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” Dylan asks instead. It comes out louder than he meant it to.

“Oh. You read it?” Mitch asks, as if it’s not a huge fucking deal. 

“No, Connor called. He was reading his copy.” 

Mitch grins. “I really want to chirp Connor about knowing how to read. Will that ruin the mood?”

“Let go of the net and we can talk about the mood,” Dylan suggests.

“Oh, yeah,” Mitch says sheepishly and Dylan realises he’s nervous. Damn him and his perfect face and huge heart and tendency for stupid grand gestures. 

“Why did you do that, you lunatic?” Dylan asks, bewildered. 

“I thought that I needed to show you that I love you.” Mitch breathes deep. “That I can be. Not selfish.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish, Mitch,” Dylan is still kind of shocked here. Mitch wrote he’d like to marry him, for everyone to see. Mitch just said he loves him.

“I know.” Mitch insists. “I just wanted you to know this is important to me. That I’m willing to work at this.”

“This.” Dylan repeats. 

“Us.” Mitch confirms. 

It shouldn't matter, really, he knows Mitch loves him by now. They have a life, a family; everything else is noise. It shouldn't matter, but it does, because while he doesn't know what demons Mitch needed to overcome to get to this, he's still so fucking proud of him. 

"Say you love me again.” Dylan asks. 

“I love you.” Mitch says, again and Dylan really really loves this idiot. He can also recognise the Mitch move coming from a mile away by now. 

 

The second season they’re both retired somebody finally puts two and two together and writes a story about the two of them obviously being a couple. They interview a bunch of people and there’s a picture of them watching a Blue Jays game together from a few months ago next to that stupid picture of Dylan sobbing into Mitch’s ear when the Otters lost in 2015. 

Mitch finds it endlessly amusing 

“I just hate that they get it so wrong,“ Dylan shrugs. “I know it’s an engaging story. All that teenage angst. But that’s not our story for me, that’s not how it went.”

“Well, obviously it’s a little bit like that.” Mitch says, Noah is trying to get the milkshake straw into one of his nostrils by bobbing his head like an idiot. Dylan kind of wants to see him succeed before he has to be a responsible adult and say something. 

“No. It’s kind of annoying that the story everybody assumes is we’ve been secretly in love for twenty years. It’s not really true.” he says.

“Dylan.” Mitch says quietly. “It definitely is. At least for me.” 

Carli groans, and Dylan gets it. They _are_ kind of old and embarrassing. It's great. 

“I don’t know why I even like you.” Dylan smiles at Mitch. “You were always such a stupid kid.” 

Mitch wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Ew,” Carli says. “You’re the worst.” 

“And it’s all genetic.” Dylan says loudly, nodding.

Mitch kisses him on the cheek when Carli is distracted again by her tablet.


End file.
